The Wolf of Oren-yaro

by K. S. Villoso

  His nostrils flared. “What brings you to my humble abode, carrying rabble with you?” His eyes fell on Anya Kaz, who laughed.

  “Let’s put our differences aside for now, Lo Bahn,” Anya said. “It’s not every day we have a queen in our midst. It will be something to talk about for years to come.”

  “A truce, for now,” Lo Bahn agreed. He turned back to me. “Lamang tells me you have a proposition.”

  “I do.” I glanced around the room. “But I’m not sure if you are, after all, our best option.”

  “You have others?” Lo Bahn sounded amused.

  “Khine mentioned you may be interested in helping out, but I must confess, Lord Han, that it would look very badly for someone of my position to be seen with people like you. Some would accuse me of having sunk too low, of being so weak that I have no other choice but to seek your help.” Sometimes the best lies came close to the truth.

  Lo Bahn’s face twisted into a sneer. “Now you insult me.”

  “Not an insult but a fact, Lord Han. That, and considering our very—tense—first meeting, I’m not sure if this was a wise idea after all.” I turned to Khine, whose lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. “Lamang, you assured me he would be begging to make amends. I’m not comfortable with having to convince someone of his stature—respectable as I’m sure it is around these parts—to help my cause.”

  “I don’t think I used the word begging, to be exact…” Khine said.

  “Regardless,” I insisted. “Lord Han did force me into a precarious situation—several precarious situations, to be honest. Had things turned out differently, he would have done more than simply allow myself to outwit him. Do we normally let these things pass back in Jin-Sayeng, Captain Nor?”

  “No, my queen,” Nor said.

  “You are not in Jin-Sayeng,” Lo Bahn pointed out. “If you think you can threaten me to servitude, you are a poorer judge of character than I thought. Your authority holds no weight here.”

  “Believe me, Lord Han, you would know if I threaten you,” I said. “But there are a number of other lords in this neighbourhood—your rivals, I assume?—who would find more to gain out of helping the Queen of Jin-Sayeng than trading insults with her. If this is the hospitality I can expect for the duration of this meeting, then perhaps it’s best if we cut it short. Good day, sir.” I got up. Almost at once, Nor and Agos turned to follow.

  “Queen Talyien,” Khine said.

  I paused. I heard Lo Bahn cough.

  “For the third time, you try to walk away from me.” Lo Bahn’s voice was curiously low. “I think we need to stop meeting like this.” I heard an added woman in there, unsaid. This was not a man used to ceding power, even to a queen.

  “I’m listening,” I said. “Make it quick.”

  I heard him take a gulping breath, like a drowning man coming up for air. “Tell me what you want. If it is within my authority, I will grant it.”

  “Now you change your mind. Is this the kind of instability I should expect from you?”

  “I never said I wouldn’t help you in the first place, wo—my lady.” His face twitched.

  “Beloved Queen, I think, is how they say it,” Khine said helpfully.

  “Silence, dog!” Lo Bahn hissed.

  I returned to my seat, but not without making it seem like it took some effort. “I need you to speak with Governor Gon Zheshan about sending a request to lift this ridiculous embargo that is preventing me from going back home,” I said.

  “And what makes you think a man like him will listen to a man like me?”

  “Am I mistaken? You do not have Governor Zheshan in your pockets? I had thought you had that much power, at least.”

  Lo Bahn licked his lips. “He may…grant me audience, if I give him a good enough reason.”

  “I can think of one. A ship, The Singing Sainsa, was found shipwrecked south of Sutan in Jin-Sayeng with an entire season of your cargo pilfered from one of your own ships. The docks should’ve had the sense to inspect the ship before it sailed, yet it never did. He bears responsibility in helping you get back that lost cargo. Of course, to do that, you’d need to travel to Jin-Sayeng in the first place.”

  “Supposing I did manage to convince him that I’d lost cargo without reporting it,” Lo Bahn said. “He wouldn’t be at fault. That ship left without proper authorization. Near smashed the docks into smithereens.”

  “You didn’t report it because you didn’t think it was stolen. Because one of your ships got all the way south before the crew realized the cargo was missing, and they didn’t know who to blame until you received word of the shipwreck. As for the Governor not being at fault…” I smiled. “I’m sure you can think of a way to put the blame on him. It happens often enough, doesn’t it? You just want a quick expedition west. If he will not help lift this embargo that he called for, perhaps you can convince him to make an exception.”

  “And what I gain, from all of this?”

  “I thought keeping your head was pretty clear enough,” Agos grumbled under his breath.

  I tapped him on the arm, and he closed his mouth. “I have been meaning to return trade with the Zarojo for years,” I said, keeping my eyes on Lo Bahn. “And I believe, if we can somehow get me home with at least my dignity intact, I can still bring those plans into fruition in a year or two from now. I can send you information that will give you years ahead of your rivals when that occurs. I can also recommend your name to some of the largest merchant companies in Jin-Sayeng. The word of a queen should do a lot to sway things to your favour, wouldn’t it?”

  I saw his face flicker. The promise of personal gain had been enough. I had him.

  “What is the Jinsein way to seal a deal?” he asked.

  “The Ikessars shake on it with blood,” I replied. “But for the Oren-yaro, your word is enough.”

  “To the beginning of a profitable friendship,” he said, lifting his wine glass.

  I smiled and did the same.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Last Ruse

  I found myself drinking and feasting with Han Lo Bahn long into the night, pretending to listen to him talk about business and trade and his wife, who was visiting family in Kyan Jang at that moment and was likely to run him into the ground with her spending habits before long. The events from four months ago seem nothing more than a dream, now. This—the push and play of power, the facade of people acting like nothing they were behind closed doors—was my life. Had always been my life. That woman running for her life in the rain, stripped of her name and title, was a stranger.

  It felt unsettling, like having blinders returned right after you had seen the world. I wasn’t sure which I preferred. I turned to Khine, who was nodding along, half-asleep, and had the inkling that perhaps I did, only…

  We are swords first. Servants first.

  “I must confess that it’s been a very long day, Lord Han,” I said. “We must return to our inn soon, or else we might have to roll my guards out of here.”

  “You are welcome to stay here,” Lo Bahn replied. “I have guest rooms, and my servants are yours to command.”

  “I believe that after the…awkwardness…of our first meeting, I best not,” I said. I was really thinking about Yuebek, and all the mistakes I was not eager to make again any time soon. “I did deceive you, Lord Han. Several times over. I would not want to impose after we’ve had such cordial talk.”

  “You may have injured my pride a little,” Lo Bahn said with a snort. “But all of that belongs to yesterday. In any case, your debts are being repaid.”

  “Perhaps another time.”

  He bowed as I left. Inzali appeared by the doorway to return our belongings and accompany us out on the street.

  “What does he mean my debts are being repaid?” I asked. “What else happened after I left?”

  Inzali simply looked at Khine. “This is your mess,” she said, before she withdrew.

  I waited. I realized Khine wasn’t talking because A
gos and Nor were standing right there, two constant reminders of who I really was and will always be. Since when were other people’s concerns my own?

  “Go back to the inn,” I told my guards. “I just want to take a walk.”

  They stared at me incredulously.

  “With all due respect—” Nor began. “At this hour?”

  “It’s dark,” Agos added. “These streets aren’t safe.”

  “Safe enough for me,” I heard Anya say.

  “Maybe for a bandit,” Agos growled. “Not a queen.”

  “I’ve survived it before,” I said. “I’ll survive it again.” I turned to Anya. “We need to make preparations for tomorrow, anyway. You remember what you have to do?”

  She smiled. “It’ll be glorious.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” My guards weren’t moving, so I clapped my hands. Only then did they lumber away from me, though I still caught Agos sneaking one last sideways glance.

  As soon as they disappeared, I felt my breath roll out of my body.

  Khine appeared near my elbow. “What does it feel like to have other people be so sure of who you are and what you have to do?”

  “Horrible,” I grumbled. “And you have to stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?” he asked innocently.

  “That thing you do. Just stop.” I folded my arms. “You owe me an explanation, I believe.”

  He gave a small huff. “It’s nothing. I came back and Lo Bahn was still furious. Not entirely unexpected. Inzali’s services weren’t enough. So I offered mine. I’ve been his right-hand man the past two months, now.”

  “For until how long?”

  “Until he tires of my work? Until he thinks his expenses with Ziori have been sufficiently justified?”

  “You should have told me. I mean to pay him back once I’ve returned.”

  “It’s not about you, Tali,” he said. “I lied to him. Caused trouble for his men and went under his nose, after he had been so generous with my family and Cho’s debts. He could’ve had him killed, you know. He’s done it to others before.”

  “Is he even paying you?”

  “Once I’ve made back what he paid Ziori in wages, he says he will.”

  “So no. Gods, Khine…” I shook my head. “You can’t do this. You’ll never get back to your studies at this rate.”

  “I’ve given up on that dream,” Khine murmured.

  “Why?”

  “Why not? The things my mother had to do to afford to send me to Kayingshe Academy in the first place…and where did I end up? Stitching up bandits for a week’s supply of eggs or whatever they can offer, just so they can go and cut each other again. And my sisters working their fingers to the bone while Cho’s debt grows larger…” His face tightened. “How many tricks can I pull off until the city watch catches me? I wouldn’t get far enough to repay Cho’s debt, let alone save up for that last year’s tuition. What good would I be to my family then? At least as Lo Bahn’s man I can earn decent wages at some point. He is generous, in his way. My family’s needs come first.”

  “You’d have to do whatever Lo Bahn asked. Good or bad.”

  “How is that any different from the scams I’ve pulled?”

  “You chose your marks. You had morals.”

  He smiled. “Big talk from a small man.”

  “Being chained to Lo Bahn was never your dream.”

  “What would you know of my dreams? I trampled the little I had to the dust.” He caught himself as soon as he spoke and lowered his head. “I apologize,” he mumbled. “I sometimes forget…”

  “That I’m a queen? That’s exactly why I still talk to you.”

  We fell quiet and found ourselves walking all the way to the edge of the canal. I found my eyes wandering down the street, to where I knew The Silver Goose stood. I thought about what tomorrow would bring, about seeing Rai again. Despite everything, that familiar excitement was still there. I had a treacherous heart.

  “Have you never asked yourself all these years if duty is all you are?” Khine asked, breaking my thoughts.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does what you want ever truly matter?”

  I watched the glint of moonlight on the clear water before looking up at him. “I think you can answer that question yourself.”

  He shook his head. “You are, unfortunately, the expert on such things.”

  “I was born with that sword in my hands,” I said. “How could I walk away? What else is there for me? I want…” I gave a wistful smile. “I want Rai to give up this tirade and come to his senses. To remember all the things that truly matter. To…love me, like I loved him.”

  “And so the prince and the princess together build a lasting peace to the end of their days.”

  “It was too much to ask for, I suppose,” I murmured.

  “It was,” Khine agreed.

  “And you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Your take on all of this? On duty? Love?”

  “I am not Oren-yaro,” he said with a smile. “Everything I do is for love.”

  A boat drifted past us. There was a man there, singing his heart out.

  “Your woman missed out when she let you go.”

  “Do me a favour: if you ever meet her, tell her that.”

  “Would it change her mind?”

  He laughed. “No. Gods, no. She would probably sooner kill herself. Or, no…she’d sooner kill me and then be done with it. What is it with me and stubborn women?”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “I already did.”

  “No, you were just starting to, before Agos oh-so-gracefully interrupted us.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  I leaned on the railing so I didn’t have to look at him while I spoke. “You said you loved her. I want to know what it sounds like to hear a man talk about the woman he loves.”

  For a time, he didn’t answer, and I was almost afraid I had asked for too much. But then I heard him drift close to me, his mouth by my shoulder. “I met her right here on this street. She had fallen into the canal and was chastising the man who had accidentally knocked her in. I had to see if she was all right, but she was more angry than hurt. Kitten-angry, Inzali liked to call it—more hissing than venom, and she was new to the language, so she was using all the wrong words. I ended up laughing more than I should have and she left in embarrassment. Wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “I don’t blame her.”

  “Me neither. I had to find her later, to offer my apologies. I knew she was Jinsein, so I took some time after my classes to ask around in Dar Aso. I was told that she fit the description of a baker’s daughter who had just set up shop around the corner, so I went there. She didn’t recognize me at first and was politely showing me their freshest loaves, but then I said something that gave me away. She ahh—didn’t have the best sense of humour. Screamed and hid in the back and wouldn’t come out for hours. I had to buy half their wares that day just to convince her father I hadn’t done something despicable to his daughter, and gave the loaves all away to my classmates in Kayingshe the next day.”

  “An expensive woman.”

  “Not always. Just that day.” He was scratching the railing with his fingers. “She found me herself afterwards. Apologized for her behaviour. Said it was not right for her to act the way she did, especially not after I had acted so honourably. Her words, not mine.”

  “The Kaitans are very strict about their honour. Almost as strict as the Oren-yaro with our duty. What was her name?”

  Khine hesitated. “Jia asor arak Heiro.”

  “Soldier caste,” I said. “But her father, baking bread?”

  “I believe his words were: ‘A better life, away from the warlords’ meddling.’”

  “He could have gone to the west. You can be whatever what you want in the west, regardless of your name. They wouldn’t hold it against you.”

  “I clearly remember he wasn’t fon
d of the idea of mad dragons.”

  “I can see how those could be detrimental to a thriving bakery business. So Jia…”

  “Jia,” Khine repeated, and there was a crack in his normally calm voice, a hint of boyish excitement, or at least the faded echo of one. “She started visiting more often. She didn’t have many friends—they’d only just arrived, you see. I taught her how to speak better Zirano, and she taught me Jinan. And it…grew from there. Her father did not approve. He liked me well enough, but he wanted to see I was capable of providing for her. An aspiring student is very different from a proper physician, after all.”

  “You wanted to marry her,” I said. I didn’t know why that came as a surprise.

  He blinked. “Of course. We were talking about it. I wanted to take her back to Phurywa to see my mother, and I thought perhaps the trip could convince her we could live there someday. If I set up shop there…” He fell silent. I saw the struggle in his face, how difficult it must be to be speaking of broken dreams. Trampled to the dust, he had said.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you speak.”

  “It’s all right,” Khine said. “I want to speak. The loss does not…diminish the love. And now that the memories are all I have, I still find myself wanting to wander back down that road. Would you believe we were happy for a time? I didn’t have much money then—”

  “You still don’t.”

  “I had even less. Sometimes I would wake up at the crack of dawn, an hour or so before my classes began, and I would just stare at her face, just drink in all the details of it.” He looked at me. “I would imagine how it would change as we grew old, and found myself oddly looking forward to how much more I could love her then. I would think—even if her ears begin to droop or her eyes become crested with wrinkles, I wouldn’t mind one bit. And then I would pray to the spirits to stretch the moments a little longer, another second, and then another, as if the flow of time was a thing you could stop somehow. I didn’t want to go to Kayingshe, I just wanted her in my arms. The rooster would crow and I would, eventually, have to leave, but it didn’t stop me from thinking about her until I saw her again.”